He cocked his head and frowned in mock confusion.
“I say it’s time to go home, and thenyousay, let’s plan a new trip.”
“I’ve always wanted to see Norway. What about a cruise?”
I gagged. “Cruise ships are nothing more than floating traps for norovirus.”
“I won’t hear you disparaging the cruising industry like this.” Beau gave a throaty chuckle. “A cruise ship is the only way to see the fjords.”
“That can’t be theonlyway to see the fjords. I bet you could paraglide.”
“Or take a helicopter.” He played along.
“For the right price, you could maybe arrive by polar bear.”
“Probably not a real polar bear. I think those are protected.”
“Okay, it’s two men dressed as a polar bear. It’s a niche experience, but a real crowd-pleaser for the people who are into it.”
“No judgment, as long as those involved are consenting adults.”
I smiled, but I couldn’t keep the banter up. “I’m not going on a cruise.”
“Okay,” he said, and then he went on. “But I don’t want to go back to California yet either.” He reached for his phone. Patting the lounger beside him, he said, “Come on. Let’s plan our next trip now.”
I pulled myself out of the pool, the chain around my neck swinging as I moved. I’d had Beau’s Buffalo Nickel turned into a necklace, and I wore it every day. When I stood, it rested on my collarbone, cool from the water. Then, I crawled onto his lounger, dripping pool water as I curled beside him. He didn’t flinch, just slipped an arm around my waist and tucked me in close. He smelled warm and salty as we pulled up maps on our phones.
Somewhere between researching the Amalfi Coast and checking out Cape Town, a news banner appeared at the top of my screen.
Breaking: Redwood Stock Plummets Amid Data Breach
“Fuck,” I breathed.
I could feel Beau shift beside me. He didn’t say anything. He just waited, searching my face, anticipating my next move.
I didn’t want to click on the story. Didn’t want it to be true. But I couldn’t stop myself. The copy was bleak.
Redwood Security confirmed a massive breach of its internal systems, exposing millions of customer records as well as executive correspondence, and sending its stock into free fall. Shares dropped more than 10 percent in early trading, erasing billions in market value as analysts warned the company’s reputationmay not recover. Regulators are already circling, and several major clients are reportedly considering pulling contracts.
“You okay?” he asked, finally—soft, not prying.
“Simon’s gotta be losing his shit right now.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. A part of me could picture it too clearly—the glass-walled conference room, the analysts frantically refreshing stock tickers, Simon at the head of the table, demanding answers no one had. For years I’d been in those war rooms, flanked by executives and PR teams, spinning disaster into strategy.
“It’s weird,” I admitted. “Being on the outside. Reading about something I put my heart and soul into.”
Beau’s thumb brushed my wrist. “Simon will land on his feet. Let’s not forget he wanted to turn Redwood into a government surveillance tool. Maybe Simon’s loss is civilization’s gain.”
I chuckled. “Side with the hackers, why don’t you.”
I didn’t press, though. Didn’t know if I should. I was lost in that early-love-drunk haze. So I let the questions die on my lips.
And when Beau leaned in and kissed me, I told myself to forget the hack. Because what did it matter, really, what happened to Simon anymore?
Beau rested a hand on my leg as he went back to scrolling.
“Any luck finding our next destination?” I asked after a few more minutes.
“Actually.” He started typing something. “My friend Marcus is opening a restaurant in Florida.” He turned his screen toward me so I could see a Google search that had pulled up brick-lined streets, moss-draped parks, and kayaks drifting through canals. “Want to go to Winter Park?”
